Power Love

Your definitive resource. That's all, just your definitive resource.

25 June 2007

WHO WANTS TO GO FOR A BIKE RIDE?



What's this?








It's quite a large box. We thought Swobo only made clothes for bikin.



This doesn't look like clothes.









It looks like a bicycle.









This booklet says: you have just received one gorgeous piece of gorgeousness.










Online version.












Chicago style.











Don't forget this detail.


SKY FROM SWOBO DESIGNED THIS BIKE. SKY FROM SWOBO IS AN ARTIST. THIS BIKE IS SO BEAUTIFUL, I CAN'T BREATHE!

20 June 2007

THE SKY IS FALLING!

People! Focus! The world as we know it IS ENDING. Why? Because GRAMMAR RULES ARE CRUMBLING AND NO ONE IS DOING A THING ABOUT IT!

IT MAKES ME WANT TO USE AN ABNORMAL AMOUNT OF EXCLAMATION POINTS!!!!!

Last week, I attended an "Editing Workshop." We were to learn something about words and the punctuation that loves them; instead, we were shown the horrors and nightmarish carnage of a world without clear cut grammar rules. It was awful! We were shown the kind of world that operated under the theory, "If it sounds right and communicates the message, go for it."

SOMEBODY SAVE THE CHILDREN!!!! And by "children," I mean, "rules." And by "save," I mean, "Make it go back to normal, I fear change."

I ask you, do you want to live in a world with lackadaisical parameters such as these? NO YOU DO NOT PEOPLE! Because it's exactly this kind of easygoing approach to the world that will leave us with a lack of water and a future full of McDonald's fries that are made with vegetable oil.

To wit, did you know there is no need to follow the "not only, but also" rule? I KNOW! Can you feel that thunderous rumble under your feet? IT'S THE BEGINNING OF THE END!

I give you an example:
According to former, proper rules, one would say, "Not only am I anal, but also I like rules." Now, under the new hippie rules of if-you-feel-it-say-it, you can say, "Not only am I anal, but I like rules."

ARE YOU LOSING YOUR MIND YET?


And here is the kicker people:
Between is not restricted to two and no more participants. Between is now individual and specific; among is collective and vague. THERE ARE NO EXACT NUMBERS ATTRIBUTED TO THESE WORDS!

Alert Power Love readers, I'm sure, recognize the colossal shift away from the venerable between-two, among-three rule: You and I talk between ourselves. You and me and Barbarella talk among ourselves.

Here's an example of the hippie approach:
I love how sand feels between my toes. [Five toes, specific. Between. Under the old rule, you'd have to use among. Which would sound weird, I guess. Unless you actually have only two toes, in which case, you could between-away all you wanted, although if you had only two toes, you probably wouldn't be human, you'd probably be some sort of amphibian maybe (or a lizard?), I don't know I'M A WORD PERSON PEOPLE NOT AN AMPHIBIOLOGIST; unless, of course, you lost three toes while trying to save kittens from a burning building, in which case, use whatever word you want; the point is--what is left to hang your hat on? What's next??? Prepositions at the end of sentences? No commas after a direct address? Multiple kinds of punctuation at the ends of sentences?!?! ACCEPTANCE OF DANGLING MODIFIERS? Can you see where this is leading us people? STRAIGHT TO THE DEPTHS OF HELL, THAT'S WHERE!]

Are the four horsemen of the apocalypse here yet? Well, they will be soon people--THEY WILL BE SOON!!!!!!

19 June 2007

Dammit.

17 June 2007

Hello, Beautiful.


14 June 2007

You go for a ride. This is a Training Ride. You have Goals. You will achieve them by going on Training Rides. You intend to be stronger and better and smarter.

But on this Training Ride, you are not strong. You are not better or smarter, either. You're hurting. You're moving slow. The computer on your bike tells you that you are moving slower than you should be. You look down at your legs--these legs that you have looked at a million times, and you wonder when they decided to mutiny. You think you should've been aware that that happened. You think they would've told you. You thought you'd been pretty good to them.

When you get home, you are wiped out. You wonder what exactly it is you're doing. The time you spend doing this. Where is it getting you? You've spent so much time thinking that of course you would achieve these Goals, that it's only a matter of when and how. But now you are thinking that maybe it's a matter of if. If you will achieve these Goals. What was yesterday a Solid Plan is today a precarious house of cards. It makes you sigh. Loudly.

Now it's the next day. You get back out there. What else are you gonna do? You carved out time for this, you might as well use it. Maybe you just need to re-evaluate. Maybe those Goals are too high. Maybe they're too audacious. Maybe you won't reach them. But you can still ride. It isn't A Ride, but it's a ride nonetheless.

Except on this day, you take the same climb you took yesterday, but today it's easier. It rolls underneath you smoothly. You look back at it, then turn around, and climb it again. You are wondering if it somehow flattened overnight. You look around for construction vehicles. You think maybe there might be impending gentrification and maybe someone came quietly during the night and lopped off the steep pitch of this hill. You climb it yet again to see. It feels good. It feels like the road and your bike and your heartbeat and your breathing and the sound of the tires rolling over the pavement are all instruments in an orchestra and they have just reached a glorious crescendo. You crest the hill and take off down the road. It is paved black top, it is pretty much your version of heaven. It occurs to you as you fly over it that right now, yes, this could be described as hauling ass.

When you get home you write a letter. You don't mail it. You take the pink flower magnet on your refrigerator and you plop it on top of the letter, slightly to the left, so you can read it every time you walk into the kitchen. This is what the letter says:

Dear Self Doubt,
Go fuck yourself.

10 June 2007

RACE DAY
(Or, organized ride as seen from an overactive imagination's perspective)

Stan and Gary and I took on the entire Midwestern peloton today.
The dudes attacked right from the gun.













I patrolled the field, watched for any threatening attacks. By which I mean, I looked at the cute ponies. As every serious cyclist knows, this is called "teamwork."












This road is like, "Rollercoaster . . . of love."













Always observe the centerline rule, people. It exists for your protection.




09 June 2007

Sometimes you're all together.










Sometimes you're all alone.










It's steeper than you think it is.










High Road Bible Church, as opposed to Low Road Bible Church, which was demolished due to lack of morals.










Statue in honor of constipation? Oh, that's a shitty thing to say.

05 June 2007

100 MILES OF PICTURES

Team Power Love would like to thank the Midwest for being purely midwestern this past weekend and providing multiple picturesque picture opportunities.

Like:



The place for grain, where they either buy it, sell it, make it, or use it for oragami.






Horses live here. Horses move much faster than Team Power Love.






At first, we thought this sign said, "Slow Loose Graves."

But it does not.





Holy shit. Look at the blue of that sky. We almost rode into the ditch staring at it. You do not want to ride into a ditch when you're trying to ride 100 miles. It does not help your motivation.








Where is the comma?








04 June 2007

SADDLE TIME












D is for distance.
100 is for miles.


I'm hungry.

02 June 2007

PEOPLE I MET ON THE ROAD

These people are riding their bikes along Route 66 . . .

to California!
AWESOME!
Be safe and peace, fine humans!!

01 June 2007

THE HIGH LIFE

I have a waterfall just outside my apartment.











I pay extra for that. Big bucks, but worth it.